our creativity, our ability to  cooperate   to  solve   problems    and complete
complicated tasks.  As  soon    as  humans  started using   signs   and symbols to
represent   the natural world,  they    pushed  beyond  the limits  of  that    world.
“In  many    ways    human   language    is  like    the     genetic     code,”  the     British
paleontologist  Michael Benton  has written.    “Information    is  stored  and
transmitted,    with    modifications,  down    the generations.    Communication
holds   societies   together    and allows  humans  to  escape  evolution.” Were
people  simply  heedless    or  selfish or  violent,    there   wouldn’t    be  an  Institute
for Conservation    Research,   and there   wouldn’t    be  a   need    for one.    If  you
want    to  think   about   why humans  are so  dangerous   to  other   species,    you
can  picture     a   poacher     in  Africa  carrying    an  AK-47   or  a   logger  in  the
Amazon  gripping    an  ax, or, better  still,  you can picture yourself,   holding a
book    on  your    lap.
IN  the center  of  the American    Museum  of  Natural History’s   Hall    of
Biodiversity,    there’s     an  exhibit     embedded    in  the     floor.  The     exhibit     is
arranged    around  a   central plaque  that    notes   there   have    been    five    major
extinction   events  since   complex     animals     evolved,    over    five    hundred
million years   ago.    According   to  the plaque, “Global climate change  and
other    causes,     probably    including   collisions  between     earth   and
extraterrestrial    objects,”   were    responsible for these   events. It  goes    on  to
observe:    “Right  now we  are in  the midst   of  the Sixth   Extinction, this    time
caused  solely  by  humanity’s  transformation  of  the ecological  landscape.”
Radiating   out from    the plaque  are sheets  of  heavy-duty  Plexiglas,  and
beneath  the     sheets  the     fossilized  remains     of  a   handful     of  exemplary
casualties.  The     Plexiglas   has     been    scuffed     by  the     shoes   of  the     tens    of
thousands   of  museum  visitors    who have    walked  across  it, probably    for the
most    part    oblivious   of  what’s  beneath their   feet.   But crouch  down    and
look    closely and you can see that    each    of  the fossils is  labeled with    the
name    of  the species as  well    as  the extinction  event   that    brought its lineage
to  an  end.    The fossils are arranged    in  chronological   order,  so  that    the
oldest—graptolites  from    the Ordovician—are  close   to  the center, while   the